Into My Mother's Underland
by Hello Mr. Darcy
Summary: It all began with a push in the right direction; a very gentle and kind, motherly push. All reviews and critiques are welcome! Chapter 6 is up.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Well hello! You are about to venture into my little ficlet and I am very pleased you are doing so. **

**This is my first submission and I am thrilled beyond all happiness. It is a rather slow moving story and I only ask for dedication when reading it. Any Mary-Sueness that you see from any of my own characters, or any the actual characters, please feel free to throw a tea-cup at my head.**

**Oh, I am also on a the look-out for a Beta Reader for this story; I currently have close to five chapters already wrapped up. **

**Send me word if you are interested**

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It had been 21 years.

Yes, 21 years since that memorable Frabjous Day, which now seemed like a small pebble in a brook, and everything had continued as was expected. The citizens of Underland still pondered over their lost savior, questions of where and why a certain blonde haired girl had left still remained with those who knew of the story. However, like all legends, the questions and stories faded with time and the remnants of the true tale were thin strings woven into the minds of the elder inhabitants; looked on as fantasy by the passing younger generations.

Time too had continued in the world above that of fantasy. Of course world's had changed and countries had both fallen and risen, but the clock continued to tick and the life of Alice Kingsleigh or Alice Saigal, as was her married name, had continued as well.

Time had been like bittersweet chocolate to the unique and prudent woman. Her life had been very enjoyable; she had found herself a husband who shared her spirit and ideas, carried on her father's dreams for his company by touring with Lord Ascot's ships, and had started a family.

Her husband had been a wisely, young scholar from the British territory of Nepal in India; their love had been cemented when she had revealed the secrets of Underland to him. He did not laugh nor run when she told him of rabbits in waistcoats and Hatters with tea obsessions. Remarkably, her husband believed her and became enthralled by the stories she had to share, marveling in the adventures she had faced in this 'Underland'.

Mr. Nikhil Saigal even dreamed of one day returning to Underland with his wife, where they could live in happiness. Not that they were not happy, it was just the fact of racial differences that caused scandal everytime they were introduced to a new party. Nevertheless, the young couple dealt with the circumstances, when the circumstances needed to be dealt with, and lived a life of pleasure in the company of each other.

Exactly two years after Alice had drunk the blood of the Jabberwocky, she had taken the vows of marriage. Then, a year after that, she had given birth to a daughter.

Sweetness had washed over her life in steady waves; yet, the bitterness that was always expected when taking a bite of such chocolate occurred but a few months later. The letter had come in a nicely made envelope, with Lord Ascot's insignia burned into black wax of the fastener. It looked like every other letter she had ever received from him, which, she personally believed, was cruel since there had been no small warning to the very devastating news concealed in the contents of the harmless looking letter. Therefore, Mrs. Saigal opened it, carelessly ripping apart the letter in the manner she had grown accustomed too. If some small warning had at least been written on the back or front of the letter, greater care may have been taken to the opening of it; but no, the entire envelope had been ripped apart and discarded into the fire.

Now Alice Saigal was not one of those women who crippled and fainted like dead fishes when told some piece of shocking or overwhelming news. No, she prided herself on being able to swallow down all her troubles and stand upright like a man did when receiving such reports. This mentality though, was thrown carelessly into the fire along with the letter's envelope as she read the line containing the straw that broke the camel's back.

_"…sorry to report to you that your husband, Mr. Nikhil Saigal, has passed due to the yellow fever which he contracted when touring the country of Cambodia. I regret to inform you that no warning was given to you due to the small span in which your husband fell ill…"_

It was then that Mrs. Alice Saigal fainted, a clean melodramatic-free faint that was so quiet that the cleaning maid found her a whole half an hour later in the same crippled position. As she laid there in her catatonic state, Alice had dreamt of Underland, not of her then dead husband, and all of the fantastical things she had left behind. A curious question appeared to her in that dream; was the hole still their in the great oak in Lord Ascot's garden that led her to her beloved Underland? That question was then stored hastily away as a foul smelling concoction was thrust underneath her nose and a maid recalled to her the scene she had walked in on.

The funeral for Mr. Nikhil Saigal had been simple but beautiful, a recreation of the man and life he had lived. Tears were shed, as to be expected, and Alice Saigal and her only daughter headed home to England; the nagging questions brought up everytime she thought of her husband and her past.

Time continued on and on, the pain she had felt with her husband's death was soothed and eased by the passing of years. Alice now turned her entire attention onto her daughter and her daughter's upbringing. It was a complete reflection of the upbringing her father had given her, boundaries with enough freedom to dream and explore. Her mother, of course, had her hand in her granddaughter's raising, making sure to at least fill half of her mind with manners and morals. Mrs. Kingsley had not approved of all of her own daughter's choices in life, but disapproval set aside, she pitied the situation Alice was in, having experienced a similar situation of her own. Like always, mother and daughter did not always see eye to eye on every decision so the child became a happy medium between the two.

Every night Alice Saigal would whisper into her daughter's sleeping mind the stories of Underland that she had shared with her husband. At first, the child delighted in the vivid fantasies presented to her, asking questions like a schoolchild poking the mind of a renowned theorist. Then with time, the stories of fantasy became just that; fantasy. The little girl grew into a young woman and began to scorn the idea of smiling cats and talking flowers. Her grandmother's ideas began to manifest and she began to conform to the ideals of society. She even dared to Alice's manners and ways.

Therefore, Alice Saigal was left in a curious predicament; she did not want one of the last of the believers to slip through her fingers.

Mrs. Alice Saigal was a warrior at heart and devised a plan that intertwined that curious question stored away in the back of her mind. On the eve of her child's eighteenth birthday, the Ascot's and her family had devised a party to be held at the country manor that had begun the whole story long ago.

It was a muggy, typical English spring day when the Saigal women arrived at the country estate. Alice watched as her daughter uneasily conducted herself with all of the kind manners her grandmother had instilled within her. It was almost like hearing the call of a mockingbird try to mimic the call of a meadowlark, every once in a while one would hear the true sound of the mockingbird's song bleed through. There was still hope for her daughter, and that small little chance at hope kept the plan in motion. That and the fact that once they had arrived, a sensation had come to Alice Saigal that mirrored the emotions she felt when chasing McTwisp, the white Rabbit, a second time.

As they were about to enter the house, out of the corner of her eye, a white and vivid blue spot was seen making a mad dash through a hydrangea bush caddy corner from the garden. A smile crept onto Alice Saigal's face that would have made the Cheshire Cat turn pink. It was then that Alice demanded that all unpacking of her child's belonging from the carriage be halted. Her daughter and the rest of the company had turned to her oddly in confusion, and that is when she made the excuse of needing to talk to her daughter alone. All had left and it was the look on her daughter's face, one of mortification mixed with a little indigestion, which caused Alice to begin unpacking a small travel case.

All the contents of the case were emptied onto the ground; and, placed into the case was a change of dress and a few necessities that she knew her daughter was going to need.

The cries of her daughter where ignored as the poor insipid thing was dragged away from the front of the house to the garden. The white dot had reappeared, but Alice was still unsure if it was the actual rabbit or just a dream being reincarnated into reality. It took the two a while to get to the recognizable tree, due to the struggling of the daughter as her mother yanked her this way and that. Alice saw the hole and smiled; yes, this would be a good idea after all, if only her dear Nikhil was there.

Looking into her daughter's blue eyes, Alice repeated a few instructions that were met by deaf ears. Words such as 'madness' and 'lunatic' were thrown at her and the short temper that Alice had was soon exhausted; the travel bag was thrown into the rather large hole, to her daughter's anguish.

With one final kiss on the cheek of her shocked daughter's face, Alice pushed the girl through the hole as well, hoping that a change in scenery would improve her beliefs.

"Pick the door on the left my dear, and be kind to my friends."

With that said and done, Mrs. Saigal walked back into the house to prepare herself a cup of tea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Well I'm back from a conference and will be able to post and write the rest of the story that I have so far. This is a more quicker moving part of the story and I hope everyone enjoys it. **

**Still on the look-out for a Beta Reader, all I need is an example of a work that you are proud of and I will make my decision from there.**

**Also, thank-you for all of the reviews. Especially since this is my first fiction ever!**

**Merci, beacoup!**

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The falling.

The falling had to be the worst part of it. The falling and the hitting against both large and small furniture items had to be the worst part of it.

Everything had occurred so quickly, one moment she is standing their like a good daughter presenting the esteemed Ascot family with the perfect picture of morals and manners. The next moment she is being dragged away like a charlatan, with all of her belongings (even her delicates) exposed for all to see and strewn across the lawn.

Her mother, her lunatic of a mother, talking nonsense; telling her of pastries, vials, doors, and keys that made very little sense to her and probably anyone listening. It had been like a blur, a hazy and fuzzy blur that she could not clear out of her eyes.

That was not the worst of it though. The worst was seeing her mother throw a travel case, with one of her best traveling dresses in it, down a hole in an oak tree without a care in the world. Soon she too had followed that case down the hole with one last look at her mother's pleased face. Yes, they had fallen into arguments before; but she never imagined her mother actually getting rid of her by pushing her into an unsuspecting hole in the ground.

An unsuspecting hole in the ground, or at least that is what she thought it was until she saw furniture pieces flying past her as she fell. Bright lights and colors greeted her as she flew past entire living rooms. This was a dream, right? She would wake-up eventually.

The sudden collision of the floor with her body threw the 'dream' idea out of her mind. She looked up and emitted a scream, the room was inverted, and she had somehow landed on the ceiling. A few moments later, she removed herself from the ceiling and fell roughly to the actual floor.

The tanned leather case had beat her to the ground and laid just a little left of her head of brown curls. A pain had crept into her head that blurred her vision and kept her on the ground without moving. Her head was pounding as she lifted it and brought herself into a sitting position on the marble floor.

She wondered if this truly was a dream, a memory of a story her mother had once told her triggered by sleep. Yes, that is what it was; she had fallen asleep in the carriage ride on the way out to the party, her party for her eighteenth birthday.

She raised her hand to her arm and pinched it. The pain pooled in the area and dissipated, so she repeated the action until that area of her arm had turned a light shade of purple. Obviously, this occurence was not a dream: and that is when she began to panic.

Being a rather levelheaded young woman, she tried to recall all of the tales her mother had told her. She even tried to recall what the woman had been preaching to her on the start of the ridiculous trip. She looked around and saw a small vile and piece of cake both containing the label 'eat me' on them. This brought back the story of her mother having to eat one or the other depending on what size she wanted to be. The idea of a door and a key being in the story caused her to locate said items. One problem was that the key and she were much larger than said door. The throbbing of her head fuzzied the next step she needed to take. Was it the vile of potion that made her smaller or the cake?

Damn, her mother and her constant muddling of stories.

Praying she had it right, she drank the potion and felt a dizzying feeling as the ceiling and table became imposing as she shrunk. The door now in front of her was on the left side of the room, as her mother had yelled to her on her hasty departure, and she reached forward with the key in one hand to open the door. Her clothing had pooled around her and she walked out of it, scandalously dressed in her under dress and attire. She ripped from her walking dress a large strip of fabric, which she fastened to cover the exposed skin of her shoulders.

The slice of cake was held in the other hand as she walked through the portal.

It was like entering a different culture with everything seeming new and odd. The sky was an amazing blue and the flowers were so vibrant in color that she became awestruck by their beauty. Everything was alive and flourishing, the trees were full and lush; the fragrance of sometype of flower met her nose and caressed her senses.

She also seemed to be very tiny when compared to all of the surrounding foliage. That is when she remembered the cake and hastily nibbled on it, in a very unlady-like fashion. She grew again to a rather normal size and turned around to fetch her dress, but the door was once again tiny and all she could fit in it was one of her fingers.

She began to walk forward, through a meadow of now odd-looking flowers. Her mind had tried to wrap itself around the idea that this was not a dream, and that her mother had at least spoken a small figment of truth. But, no way on earth or otherwise was this possible, the fantasy land her mother had spoken of was wrong and convoluted.

This debate was being waged inside her head as she collided with a tree placed in front of the meandering path. The suffering of all of the assaults was now just a dull ache and a voice coming from on of the top branches caught the young woman's attention from her thoughts.

"Well what do we have here? Or better yet, _who_ may we have here, my dear?"

A purple cat with a ridiculous grin and large saucer like eyes looked down on the woman. This odd combination of traits caught the girl off guard and caused her to fall back in amazement. The scoreboard in her head marked another point for her mother because she knew exactly what this thing was.

"Cheshire cat? Are you the Chesire cat?"

The cat laughed and disappeared for a moment only to reappear in the air above the young woman.

"Well yes, I am the Cheshire cat; but, that was not my question. My question was who are you?"

The girl's eyes widened, and then narrowed in disbelief as she responded in a rather haughty way, "I am Camellia Anne Saigal, and good cat you did not answer my question either."

Cheshire's grin widened menacingly, then relaxed into a look boredom as it pondered her answer, "Hmm, Camellia Anne Saigal. Saigal…Saigal. Not a very common name, my dear."

Camellia was about to protest the fact that the cat had still not answered her question when she realized the reality of the fact that she was having a conversation with a cat. The words "this cannot be real" slipped out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them.

"My dear of course this is real, just like you are real, and I am real. On the other hand, am I real? One never knows with these types of things…"

A puzzled look came over her face as she swallowed hard and mustered up the courage to speak again. "I-I believe you know my mother, her name is Alice Saigal."

Chesire's face of boredom did not lift as he pondered the idea, again, for a moment and responded in the same dry and exasperated voice, "Hmm. Alice Saigal, no I cannot recall anyone by the name of Alice Saigal."

"How about Alice Kingsleigh or more commonly referred to as just 'the Alice'."

The last statement was said in total exasperation and in a slightly raised voice; Camellia had inherited her mother's short temper in situations such as this. All anger was soon erased as the cat's eyes lit up and he did an uncanny twirl around her head, landing on her right shoulder, their faces almost touching.

"_The Alice_, well my dear that changes everything… or does it? I believe it does because that would make you rather late, but then again, your mother never had any sense of time whatsoever. One can only imagine that her daughter inherited her same sense of time. Well come with me girl, there are some people who have been waiting. Are you really Alice's daughter for you look nothing like her?"

All of this was said quickly and breathlessly, with Camellia being expected to catch up and follow the cat past the tree onto another path. For a moment, she wondered if she ran the other way or staid rooted to the ground, would this all disappear and she'd reappear back at the Ascot estate? The likely answer of 'no' was decided upon and she got up quickly to chase after the purple cat.

Questions were asked and rarely answered as the two continued on in a rapid pace. All Camellia had learned was that they were headed to a place her mother had constantly taken pleasure in when making such trips down to Underland. The idea of confronting any people sent her hands to her hair, arranging the loose curls back into a decent order and straightening the now dirty and rumpled underclothes she was wearing. Everything was occurring so quickly and Camellia was determined to make straight the entire situation.

They passed creatures she had never dared dream of and they all stared at her, their eyes looking over and examining every inch of her person. Whispers about the conversation she and Cheshire had been having earlier reached her ear. It was like walking through a reception hall in one's undergarments, which she technically was doing. Her cheeks burned pink as she kept her head up high and acted as if she were paying strict attention to the cats never ending conversation.

"…it has been quite some time since we have all seen your mother. Ever since that fateful Frabjous Day; of course, we all knew it would be a good while but one never really does realize the actuality of time. The Hatter I do not think will be pleased with this turn of events, but then again he is pleased with anything having to do with Alice, and tea, so maybe-"

Camellia interrupted, "The Hatter? Do you mean to say you are taking me to the Mad Hatter?"

"Of course silly girl, who else would want to be the first to see you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: My Lord, two updates in one single day... I do hope this gets more readers interested in the story.**

**I thank everyone for your reviews and comments; and all a good lady can do is ask for more.**

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If the story was correct, the cottage where the Mad Hatter, more commonly known as Tarrant Hightop (of the Hightop Clan), took tea was positioned between the end of the meadow and start of the forest.

Camellia concurred that this was true due to the clearing that began where the grasses stopped and the trees took over.

In the clearing there was an old cottage with a windmill perched at the top of an insignificant hill, that overlooked a very lengthy table piled high with cups and assorted dishes. A commotion could be heard as one immediately entered the area, and gradually got much louder as one approached the vicinity of the table. Utter chaos seemed to have set in at the 'tea party' with a multitude of scones and pastries thrown and crumbled to heaps around the table and chairs. Broken cups and plates along with tea things in all colors, shapes, and sizes lay crumpled on a musty cloth. She did not dare approach the table alone and turned to face the Cheshire cat, but found no sign of the cat or anything about her but herself.

Once at a dinner party her grandmother had thrown, she had been told not to appear unless fetched by her governess or her maid. That notion had been swept under the rug when Camellia had gathered herself and walked into the party as if invited or wanted. The lividness of her grandmother had been frightening but the applause and happiness of her mother at such bravery was memorable and cherished. That was one of the last moments her mother and she had every agreed on anything.

Therefore, with that courage and one final shake of her petticoats, Camellia made the steps to approach the table.

As she approached, a rather intense argument apparently had risen from a haggard looking hare and a small dormouse. Both were throwing sugar cubes at each other while screaming nonsensical fallacies back and forth. At the head of the table sat a man leaning back in his chair with a small plumed hat on his head covering his eyes. Light snoring could be heard from the man as she finally reached the end of the table. From what she could see, she was unable to make out the man's identity; not recalling anyone fitting the description of him from any one of the stories she had ever heard.

Camellia cleared her voice, trying to grab at the attention of anyone in the vicinity; but such a small noise was muffled by the chaotic argument going on.

"Excuse me; is this the cottage of the Mad Hatter?" The tone was wavering but was loud enough to draw the hare and mouse's attention away from their argument.

The two looked at her confused; as if she were the mad one screaming. A few moments of awkward silence arose, before the dormouse drew a sword from its casing and brandished it in the air before harshly squeaking, "Yes, it is. Who wants to know?"

"My name is Camellia Anne Saigal, and I am the daughter of Alice Saigal, more commonly known as Alice Kingsleigh or 'the Alice'." The young woman spoke the memorized line in an incensed manner, though her posture and head were erect and proper.

The hare and dormouse looked in disbelief at one another before beginning to laugh uncontrollably. Camellia stared down at them in incredulity, "This is no joking matter, and I am being rather serious. Oh, please stop that insane laughing-"

"Yeah, can't stop insanity love once insanity has already set in."

Camellia's eyes shot up and the hare and dormouse turned rather quiet as the young man at the table aroused himself from his chair. He stood up in a leisurely fashion and fixed his hat properly on his head, the hat had seen better days along with the clothing the young man was wearing. A crumpled navy blue riding coat fell over a parti-colored vest and white shirt. The collar had been destroyed but found itself in place by a paisley neckerchief with brown tweed pants, and an ivory walking stick fastened to the pant belt. Chocolate brown curls fell carelessly into his eyes, and a few had still managed to stay put in a white hair band.

The boy staggered forward towards her, causing Camellia to take a few steps back in fright. Remembering her courage, she squared her shoulders and met the young man in the eyes. This change in extremities coaxed a hearty laugh from the boy as he came forward and bowed to her in a slipshod manner.

"How do yea do Miss…," his look was imploring, as if in the last five minutes he had forgotten her name.

She took the liberty of ending his search, "Saigal. Miss Camellia Anne Saigal."

"Right, Miss Cam Saigal."

"No, Camellia Saigal not Cam."

"That's what I said love, Cam Saigal. Mr. Revelry Caubeen pleased to make your lovely acquaintance." He bowed again with a tad more pageantry than before. Camellia glared at him before giving him her hand, which he smirked at before turning around, ignoring the gesture completely. Picking up a rose-colored china pot and blue-checkered teacup, he poured himself a cup of black liquid and took a giant swig.

With this, the hare and the dormouse began laughing again uncontrollably. She could tell that his Mr. Caubeen was not the Mad Hatter her mother had often spoken fondly of; and, since said hatter was probably nowhere in the vicinity of such a place, she did not need to be there either.

"Well since you are not the Mad Hatter I am looking for and that stupid cat lead me here on some fall pretense, please excuse me sir, I must leave to find him immediately. Enjoy your tea."

She sped off in the general direction of the trees, leaving behind the tea party.

Mumbling under her breath bloody oaths that could make a sailor cry, she heard the yelling of a certain man behind her. Sadly, her boots did not carry her fast enough and she was forced to stop as Revelry Caubeen cut in front of her. She moved to go past him, but he cut off any chance of going around him by moving into her way everytime she dared to take a step.

Her anger was about to boil over when he spoke, "So you are in search of my dear employer, eh? Well dear you won't find him that way since that way gets you towards the marshlands which I doubt is where he is located."

His smile became broad and gloating, as she looked at him frustrated with the lack of energy to scream or bash his head in, as she wanted to.

"Just please show me the way so I can leave this world altogether!" Camellia stomped her foot like a child receiving a scolding.

Mr. Caubeen smiled and turned to the left pointing his stick, "See that ain't too hard now is it Cam? The Hatter's cottage and workplace, along with the White Queen's castle and the village, are that way."

Before a thank-you could be said, the man had lumbered off swinging his cane and whistling a tune; leaving Camellia in his wake.

Camellia was rather tired of having to follow someone through a land foreign to her. Her petticoats had become damp, as well as most of the articles of clothing on her person. Her once spotless boots were caked with dirt, and the branches of various trees clawed at her as she passed through the forest, numb. Everything was moving too fast. Camellia put into perspective her entire day: just this morning she had woken up in a normal bed  
surrounded by normal people. This had to be some wicked dream, one that she could not pinch herself out of. Even the idea of her being deathly ill and this being some delirium due to medicine seemed a better alternative than the one she had to face.

During her walk, a memory of her mother telling her the story of a caterpillar that talked made her cheeks turn pink. The conclusion that maybe her mother, her odd nonsensical mother, had been true was bitter. Camellia was a person who always wanted to be right.

Oh, blast it! If only her mother had been normal.

But no, her mother scorned normalcy liked she scorned stockings and corsets. Another memory of her mother showing up to a ball in aesthetic dress and minimal undergarments caused Camellia's face to turn pale.

If only her father was alive.

Then again, all tales that she had ever heard about him made it sound like her father had been just as unrealistic as his wife had. To think of the two of them going out in decent society made her laugh. She had hardly known her father, his kind amber eyes where but a haze when she thought about it. Her mother said she had her father's smile; but she would never know if that statement was true or not. Even if he had been odd, just the fact of him actually being alive would have pleased her. It was always better to have an embarrassing parent that was alive, than not one at all.

Nightfall had settled upon the land, the howling of beasts and hooting of owls filled the air replacing the calls of birds. Her feet were sore and she was rather out of breath when they reached what appeared to be the edge of the city.

The two meandered through the village, passing cozy houses with blazing fires creating heat that could be felt through the walls and doors. Just the idea of a fire and warm clothes revived Camellia enough to keep up her pace with Revelry Caubeen. Her stomach began to growl, and she wrapped her hands around it, hoping to quell the sound from reaching anyone's ears. Her eyes raked over the surrounding townspeople, who looked like normal citizens of a normal city. She felt indecent just in her petticoats and under dress, but nobody bothered her or even looked towards her. Unlike those damn flowers and woodland creatures like before.

Every once and a while she would spot an exotic looking fruit or drink that would make her stomach churn; but, she shrugged it off and focused on the fact that it was at least some sort of nourishment. Unconsciously, Revelry had stopped, and the front of Camellia's person collided with the man's back.

Both swore oaths and turned on each other, Camellia's aggravation was lasting , but Mr. Caubeen's temper faded quickly and he began to laugh out his explanation, "Sorry love, didn't mean to stop so suddenly. I was just about to fetch the two of us some sort of refreshment, nothing heavy o' course since I know Master Hightop will have some sort of spread prepared. We are still a good walk away his residence is located at the edge of the castle walls."

Camellia's response was given by her stomach as it made an unseemly growl. She tried to hide her slight shame; but nothing apparently escaped the man who grinned and purchased two pieces of brownish bread from a vendor. He handed her a slice and she took it gingerly from his hand. He watched her pick at it with her nimble fingers before taking a diminutive piece and placing it in her mouth. Apparently, the bread met her approval because soon the tiny pieces were replaced by very sizeable ones.

"See you found somethin' yeah liked in this place after all."

A soft blush met his eyes and he turned around, the lights of the houses illuminating the road in front of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Marvelous, another update! I already have the rest of the plot structure written out; just having a tad bit of writer's block. **

**I praise my Beta-reader: Luna4816.**

**She has been a dear looking over my chapters and correcting any nasty grammatical errors; for which I dedicate this chapter to her. :)**

**I am also getting input from other authors of Alice in Wonderland fanfiction, authors who's skills far outreach my own, and this will hopefully help move things along.**

**In this chapter: The famous Mad Hatter appears!**

**Next Chapter: Expect the White Queen, Camellia's father and Absolem. (Oh, my!)**

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The early hours of the morning had already approached when the pair finally reached the edge of the castle's walls. An iridescent glow from the cream-colored bricks of the walls illuminated the surrounding area creating an unearthly picture. Situated directly next to the wall, in its own little niche, was a small house with a diminutive wooden fence and thatched roof.

They continued towards the house before Camellia quickly grabbed the mans' arm in front of her and yanked him back. Revelry Caubeen turned around quickly, curious about the gesture, looking down at her smooth petite hand grasping his jacket sleeve. Hastily, she removed her hand from his person and took a settling breath before asking;

"Is this Hatter, this Mr. Tarrant Hightop as my mother called him, really a mad man?" Camellia thought her inquiry would surely receive a laugh; but instead he just rolled his eyes and continued onward.

She followed him, thinking of all sorts of unladylike profanities she could scream at him for not answering her question. It was a rightly justified question, she believed. Never before had she met a 'mad' person, well except for the man leading her into the house and that pair of blasted beasts she had met at the tea.

Mr. Caubeen fiddled around in his pockets for the keys, continuing the whistling from earlier while doing so. Camellia took this time to run a quick hand through her tangled tresses and fix her petticoats into a more seemly shape. She surveyed the damage done to them and gave up hope quickly before straightening the shawl made from her earlier dress. The door was soon unlocked as Revelry walked through first, setting his cane down on an end table to the left of the doorway.

With a calming breath, Camellia walked through the doorway as well, standing there for a moment surveying the scene. It was a lovely home with warm interior and nicely colored furniture. However, a tad bit too messy, the room smelled of scones and various teas. Multiple wax lamps gave the room light, with the major source of heat coming from a charming brick fireplace in the center of the room. To the right was a curtained off area that she assumed was either the bedrooms or kitchen, and towards the back there was a corridor leading off to the rest of the house. The coziness of the room made her feel a tad drowsy as she swayed a little in place.

The sound of a voice from the back of the house awoke her from her daze; and, Mr. Caubeen began to yell back;

"Evenin' sir, sorry I'm late I got held up with somethin'." Camellia could not make-out the response, but apparently, Revelry had heard it.

"No sir, it's a rather interesting somethin'. The somethin' followed me here. You can say that it is like a present for yeah." Color rose to her cheeks at the mention of this 'present' which she was assuming was herself. Mr. Caubeen turned around and offered her a seat on a small loveseat; he smirked and then went off through the curtained area mumbling something about meats and cheeses.

So she was left alone, a feeling of anxiety began to come forth as a shadow of a looming figure walking down the hallway became visible. Squirming in her chair, she stood up immediately when a man with vibrant red hair, with a few wisps of silver, came through the hallway corridor.

He was a very tall man, nearly reaching the ceiling, wearing a workman's apron and absurdly colored clothing as Mr. Caubeen. His face was pale with purple patches and his eyes, a startling green, which were framed by matching red lashes and bushy eyebrows. There was a look of confusion on his face as he came forward, watching the young lady stand there in the middle of his room in front of his favorite loveseat no less.

Wide blue eyes watched him like a cat, and for a second he recognized those eyes. The image of the person who these eyes conjured up was quickly swept away. Improper thinking; it was only the eyes that conjured up this image, because the rest of her was too different. Her curls were a light brown and not the blonde locks he had dreamed of, and her skin was a light olive tone and not the fair cream of his memories. However, the look about her, the look those eyes gave her face reminded him so much of his special someone. The haughty assurance in those eyes was undoubtedly his Alice.

A grin was placed on his face, trying to ease the obviously very startled and nervous young woman.

This grin procured a small smile as well, Camellia did not speak though; her tongue was a muddle of confusion and she was afraid whatever she would say was wrong. This, assuredly, was the man she was looking for; the description her mother gave her matched this man perfectly.

Ending the awkward silence, the Hatter was the first to speak.

"Well hello…are you perhaps in need of a hat?"

Camellia looked at him, puzzled. Shaking her head, she responded;

"No, no, I was sent here by the Cheshire cat. He said that you would want to be seeing me."

The Hatter smiled and shook his head as well, "Seeing you; why ever would I need to do that? I do not know you."

Her cheeks turned pink and she began to laugh a little. The tone of his voice reminded her of a child, an innocent and naïve child.

Oh, everything was going horribly wrong.

"No, you see I think he wanted me to see you because we have an acquaintance in common. You see I am the daughter of Alice Saigal, you probably know her as Alice Kingsleigh."

With this, the Hatter turned a shade paler than before and a look of lost helplessness settled over him. His eyes had turned dark and sad; he looked down, at the floor then at her. No wonder her image appeared before him; his Alice had a daughter…and presumably a husband.

Camellia saw the pain that her rehearsed speech had caused him, and was not unaware of the reason. Her mother had often talked very fondly of this man, in a manner overly loving when describing a good or dear friend. Obviously, her mother had loved this man at a point, and it was only presumed that he had loved her too.

She only imagined what it would be like to be separated from your one love for more than 20 years, and then have her daughter thrust upon you. Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink as she cursed the fact that her mother had not come down to this word herself. No, she sent her daughter, who wanted no part in this masquerade, in her stead to make a fool out of herself.

The two stood there soaking in the scene that had just occurred. The Hatter was the first to speak, again.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Surprisingly the voice was soft, kind, tinged with remorse and not the anger she had expected. His eyes.

"Yes that sounds lovely."

He motioned for her to sit back down, and Camellia took the offer while he went towards the curtained entrance. Revelry appeared and stopped him from entering by pushing a large tea cart full of various confections and foods in front o him. The two men exchanged a glance before the Hatter turned back around and took a seat on the armchair across from her. The younger man was busying himself by pouring tea from a black Chinese teapot into a cup, he looked over his shoulder down at her and inquired;

"So Cam, how do yeah take your tea."

The sound of the pet name irritated to her, but she brushed it off and forced a smile, "My name is not Cam it's Camellia, and I take it with one sugar cube, no cream."

A chuckle could be heard from the Hatter as both of the younger people looked at him, perplexed. With a small gesture of the hand, he explained his sudden outburst, "Sorry, your mother takes her tea the same…or at least she used to."

Camellia smiled, her hand grasping the proffered cup and sipped the tea slowly, a mix of mint and rosemary greeted her, and the warmth of the liquid ran down her throat warming her through and through. Revelry then handed a cup to his employer and began to make a plate full of food, which Camellia guessed was for her. Sipping her tea, she listened as the Hatter rambled on, speaking on a multitude of different subjects.

"It has been a while since your mother was last here, but she had a tendency to be away for awhile and reappear. Now you are here, and rather late if I do say so, and she is not here. Very much, like Alice indeed, but then again not like Alice because she does not break her promises; yet, apparently she did because she is not here and you are…She must be with her husband….that bloody 'usband."

The last statement had been said oddly, Camellia swore that she heard a bit of a Scottish accent break through, and she looked at him wide eyed. His eyes had gone from a dark green almost black, to bright amber. Dare she even tell him that her father died? No, she was not her mother's matchmaker. She doubted that she had been put through this much trouble only to quell the heartache of a lunatic. Still, the small bit of romanticism she held within her broke through and she found herself quickly saying the statement,

"My father is dead."

The Hatter began to choke on the tea he had been sipping and a crash was heard as the plate of food Revelry had been holding fell onto the rest of the cart. It would have been comical if Camellia had not been there, and had maybe heard the story at some assembly or get together. She looked immediately at her teacup and then at the fireplace, concentrating on a loose brick as if it was a dog with two heads.

Quickly the Hatter got up and began to aid his assistant in the cleaning of such a mess. He whispered something heatedly into the ear of the young boy, who then turned around with an abnormal smile.

"Um, I believe it's time we be takin' yeah to the White Queen. She'll know what to do with yeah. Come on Cam."

Camellia stood up as Revelry moved towards the door, a look of surprise at the sudden declaration was apparent on her face as she began to argue,

"The castle? I thought I was supposed to come here, meet the Hatter, and then leave! I will not be staying the night in this insanity. No I am not leaving, I am sorry if I was wrong to bring up my mother and all of her stupid mistakes-"

Another crash occurred as Camellia was wrenched away towards the front door. She did not look back as she was harshly led out of the house.

Camellia began to swear and curse at him, all while hitting at his hand. How dare this despicable man touch her, let alone grab her and pull her out of a house. Had she missed something? Yes, she had mentioned her father's death, but what pain it caused the Hatter was beyond her. He should be the one apologizing. Damn all of them!

As soon as they were out of the vicinity, Mr. Caubeen let go of her arm and she pulled it away seething with anger. Before she could calm herself or hold her tongue she began to rant,

"How dare you take hold of me and force me out like some wild beast! Do not every lay a single hand on me again or so help me, I will remove whatever body part touches me. You are the vilest young man I have ever met and I hope I never have to lays eyes on you again!"

With that, she stomped off past him, nose in the air, following the cream-colored road up towards the castle gate opening. After a while, she looked over shoulder, and saw no trace of the hatter's assistant.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Chapter 7 is slowly coming together. I've been rather lazy, but I wish to publish the chapters that I have finished already. Hopefully, this will light a fire under my butt to write more, since I already have the entire plot figured out..**

**I thank again my beta-reader, Luna4816, for all of her help.**

**I also thank everyone who reads this little story, and everybody who graces me with reviews.**

**In this chapter: Camellia's father, the White Queen, a discovery and Absolem?**

**In the next chapter: New character, more Revelry Caubeen, another tea party and the Mad Hatter. Hurrah!**

**Happy Reading~! :]**

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Cherry trees with their blossoms lined the road leading up to the castle. A breeze flew threw them and a whisper was created, sprinkling the air with many secrets.

The castle's gate was unimposing and unguarded, much to Camellia's surprise.

She walked through carefully; the last entry to a house had ended in utter chaos. Her eyes searched for somebody, anybody who could help her.

A voice called to her from the garden, it was a deep voice, and she felt herself compelled to move towards it.

The hedges of the garden were a maze and she soon found herself lost, the fact that she was also searching for a voice in the middle of the dark was not helping either. Her feet were sore and her mind unclear as she settled herself upon a stone bench on a terrace overlooking a cliff. The cold of the stone cleared her head and she eased herself down to lay her cheek upon it. Camellia knew she should be finding someone, like the White Queen or the purple cat fellow; but, the bench was so relaxing and she was exhausted…

Camellia awoke in India: she knew it was so because of the spices that always filled the air in the late fall after the crops were done. Another reason she knew it was India was the fact that the veranda that she found herself on was the same exact one in the picture that hung on the wall in her room; the picture of her father, mother and child-self in their bungalow. But, why was she in India…hadn't she just been in Underland?

Laughter behind her diverted her attention away from the thought.

Turning, she was now facing a man with kind amber eyes and a slight smile. He had dark straight black hair, tanned skin, and a small goatee; he wore a somber looking suit and a pair of spectacles. Even though he was rather young, his eyes and demeanor held a look of wisdom.

She was standing in front of her father, the man in front of her matched the same man in the photograph; and those eyes were undoubtedly the eyes from her obscured dreams.

Camellia raced forth and her father laughed as he embraced his daughter. Tears filled her eyes and she clung onto him, not caring if this was real or imaginary. The smell of kahjur and taj greeted her nostrils and she could not help but laugh too as they separated, looking at each other. Her father's soft voice spoke,

"Mera pyara, you have grown since I have last seen you. I see you have found your mother's blessed wonderland."

A look of fury and embarrassment spread across Camellia's face, as she reacted automatically, "No, I did not find it; I was forced here by her. She threw me into this insanity! You should see how she goes on in life, how much she thinks about this place, how much she loves all the people in it. More than I think she loves either of us."

Nikhil Saigal chuckled and patted his child's head, "Camellia, when I first met your mother, I saw that there was something unique about her. She did not act like any other human being; she broke conventions by being whom she was, and I was entranced. When she finally told me the secrets of the world that you are currently in, I knew I had not received your mother's entire heart: I had received the rest of the heart that she had not left behind in Underland. Some would see that as outrageous, but I loved your mother because she was the person Underland had made her. She loved me and she loves you, but to understand her love her you must also understand this world."

Camellia looked down in shame and, like a child making an excuse for their actions, spoke again, "This place isn't real, it can't possibly be real. It is all magic, and magic does not exist."

Nikhil lifted his daughter's chin, making her eyes look into his, "Mera pyara, of course magic is real. How do you think I am here?"

With this he was gone, Camellia reached for him, but all that was left was a blue butterfly sitting precariously on her outreached hand. The butterfly seemed to turn to her; its small little face wore a monocle. Its voice was grave as it said, "Silly-girl, I believe it is time to wake-up."

Light poured in from thin windows that were the entire length of the wall. The light was a peach colored hue and bathed everything in the room, turning the ivory furniture into fixtures of light themselves.

The downy pillows hid Camellia's head from the direct morning rays, and with a grumble she sat up. She was not on the stone bench that she had fallen asleep on; no instead she was on a spacious bed in an equally spacious room. Wiping the sleep out of her eyes, she gathered her bearings and surveyed the space. The bed she was currently rested upon was on a raised dais with everything being the lower level. The fragrance of raspberries and hot tea filled the air and tempted her out of the bed, over to the small tray of food laid out for her. When she got up, she finally realized that she was not in her mangled undergarments, but a soft embroidered sleeping gown. An azure blue robe sat lazily across the chair, and Camellia slipped it on before nibbling on the food in the dishes.

Apparently, someone had found her and brought her into the castle.

After sedating her growling stomach, she walked over to the doorway, only to be frightened by a chambermaid coming in with towels and linens. The maid bowed her apologies and Camellia did the same.

Without asking, the woman told her about how she had ended up here.

Two owls had found her in the garden and had alerted the Queen who had her brought in to these sets of rooms. The maid tsk-ed at the idea of her only showing up dressed in nothing but her underclothes, and her skin having been horribly pale. Didn't she know that nights became terribly cold and one could freeze lying on cold stone?

With that said, the woman handed Camellia towels and fresh linen underclothes and escorted her to the bathroom where a large porcelain tub awaited her filled with hot water.

The bath refreshed Camellia completely, and in no time she was out and searching for the dress she was expected to wear.

As if on cue, a gown in the color of royal purple was laid out upon the chaise. It was of an odd fashion, defiantly not from any of the current milliners of England, and did not contain a bustle or high collar. The waistline was rather high and the skirts fell naturally down around her feet, the neckline was squared and contained needlework flowers in a multitude of colors. A belt in orange and mahogany with a gold buckle of daisies fastened her gown and skirts in place. Fresh brown boots sat on the floor at the foot of the chaise, and after slipping them on she went to the vanity mirror located next to the armoire.

Camellia examined the image in the mirror critically. Her blue eyes were tinged with red; she had a few scratches from the blasted trees on her left temple, and she was a little paler than normal. Her arms and legs were sore from the walking and she had noticed in the bath a ghastly purple bruise on her side from where she had fallen. Grabbing for the brush, she began to comb her hair into a bun and fastened the hairdo with a jeweled pin located on the vanity's bureau.

The dream from last night had been so vivid; the aroma of the spices was still about her person. That butterfly, whoever or whatever it was, had been the voice that had called her into the garden.

It had been an odd sensation hugging her father. His laugh, his laugh had been so clear and melodious; it had faded when he chided her. Pain eased into her heart as she thought about it; one of the only times she meets him that she can remember and he scolded her. His words still rung in her head, but she put them aside and walked towards the door once more.

Walking into the hallway, she immediately searched for any passerby. Seeing none, she decided follow the long narrow carpet that lined the floor.

The interior of the palace matched the overall color scheme of everything else, white marble and soft maple wood was everywhere. The color of her gown made her stand out vividly against her pale surroundings. Portraits of the many ancestors of the Queen lined the walls and, unlike the portraits of the monarchs of England, all of them were smiling and engaging; as if the portrait had been a picture taken while they were laughing.

The more she got further into the castle, the more she saw people and creatures that resembled people. Hounds, bears, and humans dressed like chess pieces all guarded various doors and hallways and smiled at her as she walked passed them. Finally, she came upon two very large wooden doors. A line of people, dressed in various colorful garbs, waited anxiously outside of the door.

Somehow, Camellia knew that this was where the Queen was located. She stood beside the line and wondered how she would ever possibly see her.

Right as she was about to approach one of the gentlemen guards, the doors opened and out came a very regal woman dressed in the all of the garments suited for a Queen. The young woman recalled her mother's story about her own first encounter with the White Queen. Her mother's advice had been to 'respect her Majesty always and be calm with her ways; because, it is her ways that makes her a fair ruler.'

Camellia had always thought the phrase odd; it applied more to her mother than it did to a Queen.

Everyone dropped to a courtesy, and Camellia followed through as well. Looking up she saw that Queen was looking around, and when her eyes fell upon Camellia lit up. Very soon, she was being raised from her courtesy and embraced by the woman.

"You were not expected, but I see dear Alice always has a way of even changing the Oraculum to fitting her own needs. I have learned that your journey in Underland has been very eventful so far."

The White Queen took her hand and led her through the doors, the soft slam of their closing shutting out any noise on the other side. She was a woman of beauty, with dark eyes and eyebrows, pale blonde hair and an elegant grace. Signs of aging were only seen in the thin but present lines in her face around the significant areas of her mouth and eyes. She wore a dress similar to the style popular twenty years before Camellia had been born and a crown of ivory with emeralds and pearls.

They walked into a room, much like Camellia's, but instead of a bed on the dais, their sat a throne: simple but intricately made. Elegantly bound leather books sat neatly in piles upon a desk in the corner of the room and spread out upon the table was a long scroll with writing on it. The scroll's handles glistened in the light of the morning streaming through the windows and entrapped Camellia's attention.

Seeing that the young woman's mind was elsewhere, the Queen followed the brunette's gaze until her own eyes rested upon the scroll. The Queen took the liberty of explaining the item,

"That is the Oraculum my dear, it tells of everyday that has and will happen in Underland."

Showing Camellia over to the table, the Queen opened the scroll and pointed to an area of pictures.

Under her finger, the title of "Rseridan Day" labeled the images of a young woman standing outside of a large door, then the image of that same young woman with the Queen and the woman talking to a young man in an odd hat.

Pushing the scroll apart further, Camellia saw that this particular young lady's presence in Underland was lengthy. The idea made her turn pale.

The Queen saw Camellia's shock and spoke, "Dear Camellia, as your mother has demonstrated, the Oraculum can change when one wishes it too. Do not fret; we will make your stay in our world as comfortable as possible."

"But your Majesty I do not want to stay. I want to leave immediately: the Cheshire Cat said I needed to see the Hatter. I saw the Hatter. He did not say that I was supposed to stay any longer. There must be a way for me to leave here."

A smile was on the Queen's face, so much like her mother was this young woman. With a delicate hand, she entwined the girl's arm with her own and walked her out to the balcony, "Please call me Mirana. Your wish to make a hasty departure is going to be difficult because, oh how do I put this delicately? You are unable to leave Underland because the portal you entered was the last portal into and out of this world. That portal, I am sorry to say has become inactive. I am sorry my dear, but it seems that you are here to stay permanently in Underland."

Mirana looked down at the girl, her own face was uneasy knowing that this news was not the sort of the thing one hoisted upon someone; but the Queen had decided that there was no other way of putting it.

Camellia's blue eyes widened, and she went to speak but found her voice unable to. The idea of never leaving, of never being able to see her family or England at all had taken her breathe away. She began to shake and tremble, removing her arm from the Queen's. Her head became fuzzy and she felt a sudden surge of fear, causing her to back away towards the door.

Mirana followed the girl, talking to her soothingly; hoping to calm her.

That is when Camellia bolted, leaving the room and the Queen behind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thank-you so much for your patience, I have had a bit of weather trouble. I live in Texas, way down deep in Texas, and I experienced a hurricane which knocked over all of the stupid internet cable lines. Thank-you Hurricane Alex!**

**Soo, I will not be able to post another chapter until Wednesday. **

**Thank-you, again Luna4816 for still being the beta-reader for a _very_ difficult author.**

**Review, Review, Review!**

**Enjoy~!**

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Things, people, scenery flew by her.

She heard the voices of the guards and castle courtiers calling for her as she ran past the cherry tree-lined entrance, the clacking of marble under her boots drowned out the noises. Her throat burned with the exhaustion of her activity, she passed the Hatter's cottage, but she kept running; soon entering the village and weaving her way through the crowd.

The door: she had to get back to that door. Get back to the door, drink the potion, eat the cake, and fall back up. If anything was possible, it was that.

Camellia's eyes watered with tears, and she continued her pace, causing marketplace men and women to yell at her accusingly. She knocked over baskets and bags, pushing and shoving until she was out of the village and racing down the path through the trees.

Thoughts raced around in her mind, the idea of staying in this place made her livid and terrified, no matter what her father, mother, or any of them had said. This was their life, not hers. She had not wanted to come here; she should have at least been given the respect of making that decision. Her life was her own; she knew what was right for her. Or at least she thought she did.

As she ventured in deeper within the forest, Camellia knew she was lost. The path that she had wandered down yesterday with Mr. Caubeen was not the path she was currently on. Her gown suffered the punishment of the trees, and the jeweled pin had been lost in the wind with her light brown curls pooling around her shoulders.

Defeated, Camellia fell back against a tree and began to quietly sob. Her body shook as she cradled herself, tears dripping down her cheeks. A small part of her wanted her to be okay with this new turn of events, but the majority had taken the consensus of hating the idea. Taking her fingers to her arm, she pinched herself again in the same bruised spot. This advice had been given by her grandfather to her mother, and the information passed down to her.

Camellia deemed such information useless since she remained in her place and was not in bed awaking from sleep.

Soon the tears subsided and her breathing leveled, she had enough smarts to look about her and try to find her way to the door. Even if the door did not work anymore, she figured that the door would help her from loosing it again. If anything, Camellia hated crying; it made her feel weak and insipid.

The only problem was the fact that she did not know which way was the direction towards the door.

South, yes south had to be the correct way. Her mother had traveled the world and her father had studied geography; direction was in her bones.

Nibbling on her lip, Camellia got up from her spot under the tree and ventured south towards hopefully the portal's door. She had removed one of the lace ribbons securing her stockings, and tied her hair back with it. Her curls were unfashionable currently in London, straight hair or tight ringlets were all the rage; but alas, she had inherited her mother's hair.

Thinking of London made her realize the fact that today was her birthday; she was now eighteen and officially a young woman. If she ever returned to the world above, she would be expected to marry some lord's son or a gentleman with wealth. She herself was an heiress of considerable fortune, which only meant that she could only marry someone with considerable riches as well. The idea of marriage made Camellia uneasy, she definitely was not ready for it, and she knew her mother was not going to force her. It would be the rest of society, including her grandmother, that would push her towards the alter. The idea of marrying a frivolous, pig-headed boy or an older, ailing man made her gag. Maybe turning eighteen was not exactly great.

Camellia hummed 'For She is a Jolly Good Fellow' to herself. Her mother had ordered, for her birthday, a four-tiered angel food cake decorated in cream and silver frosting. Her grandmother would have allowed her to drink an entire glass of champagne. The combination sounded heavenly and a small part of her contemplated, _'if I must stay in Underland, I wonder if they have any items such as this'._

Quickly she admonished herself for thinking anything of the sort, and quickened her pace towards an area up ahead.

Yellow light broke through the trees as she walked onto another cleared path. She spotted two large gentlemen of middle age talking to a younger man in a black outfit. At first, she thought it was Mr. Revelry Caubeen, but was soon sure that it was not the Hatter's apprentice. The boy or more fitting, the young man, was exceptionally tall and thin, muscles apparent in his limbs. His hair was as black as a raven's wing, and he was ordering the other two gentlemen with him about.

Sensing that she was obviously not welcome and seeing that all of them were armed, Camellia ran behind a large tree stump, the group was a good twenty feet away and had not spotted her. Peaking her eyes over the stump, she caught only parts of their conversation.

"…all of the portals are closed, and rumor is that she has already returned. She has been exposed to the above world too long; she will have forgotten her alliances." The first statement was from one of the older man wearing a long black coat with red detail. This statement apparently made his companion, the other middle-aged gentleman in red court dress, angry because he hit him over the head with his hand.

"You idiot! Of course she will not change her alliance. Besides, the one who has slain the Jabberwocky has not returned-" Camellia watched as the young man grabbed the gentleman who had just spoken by the collar, cutting off his sentence.

Their faces were within inches of each other as the man talked in a low but deadly whisper. "What do you mean when you say the one who defeated the Jabberwocky has not returned? Your cohort just said she did."

The strength put into the grasp of the collar apparently was choking the poor man as he gasped for breath while talking,

"No, no my Lord. My friend heard the rumors wrong. She herself has not returned…it is her daughter who has."

Automatically Camellia knew that she was the subject of that sentence. Whatever they were talking about, she did not know; but she definitely knew that they were referring to her. She decided to leave quickly, hoping not to draw attention to herself while doing so. Taking minute movements forward, she crawled back towards the trees.

The younger Lord spoke again, vile arrogance crept into his voice; "Well, whoever the girl maybe, we must find her for she will be a great key in the success of our enterprise-"

A snap of a branch underneath Camellia's hand drew their attention away.

The conversation stopped, causing Camellia to panic and freeze. Everything went still and she turned to look around back at the group to find them gone. Over her shoulder, all she saw was the empty clearing.

When she turned back around, she screamed as she was greeted with the site of three pairs of boots. Looking up, she saw the owners of the boot's faces. She backed away on her hands, as they reached for her. The two middle-aged gentlemen grabbed her arms and roughly hoisted her up onto her legs and back to a sitting position on the stump. The young man stood standing behind them, arms crossed behind his back.

Surprisingly, the Lord was rather handsome in an odd way. His features were sharp and prominent; his eyes were small and a very dark lilac. Straight hair was boyishly cut to his collar that was decorated with red hearts; and overall he was impeccably dressed in black leather breaches trimmed in red with matching Hessian-riding boots. He towered over Camellia as he walked towards the stump, pushing past his associates. A look of curious anger was on his face, but his voice was rather calm as he spoke,

"What do we have here? A lost little girl…or how about a lost little spy?"

The word 'little' raised up some anger in Camellia. This irritation help quell the fear lingering in her senses. Raising her chin, and acting as if this was a daily occurrence of no significance, she replied,

"First off sir, I am not little. Secondly, I am not a spy. And thirdly, please let me go for I am late for a meeting."

She went to get up, but was pushed roughly down by the man, his face leaning in tantalizingly close as he smirked;

"Now why would I ever want to do that? I should take you with me and make sure that you are never able to speak of this event ever again."

The finality in his voice broke down her shield, Camellia began to tremble, her voice held some sort of boldness still as she replied, "I assure you sir that I am a lady who must be treated with respect. I have no intention of going anywhere with you."

The man laughed, ignoring the warning, "It will be a rather sad thing to get rid of you, for you are so pretty. Maybe we could reach an accord and I won't kill you…pray tell me what your name is?" His hand was holding her chin up and her blue eyes were directly looking into his lilac ones.

She pulled her chin away and in a low voice said, "Miss Camellia Anne Saigal."

A look of realization came over the man's face and he flashed her a venomous smile, "Well I'm terribly sorry but you just completed my search. I definitely won't be able to let you go anytime soon."

The two men behind the young man began to laugh as they reached for Camellia who struggled against their grasp. They pulled her up, and she began to scream; one of them had the audacity to cover her mouth with his vile hand. She bit down on the loathsome appendage, igniting a yelp from the man and the removal of his hand.

"Unhand me. Take your hands off of me this instant!" Her voice contained panic, mixed with fear and indignation.

At this moment another man entered the clearing, the green plume of his hat was instantly recognizable as he ordered, "Let the lady go."

Camellia stopped struggling against her captors, who instantly dropped their grasp and let her tumble onto the earth's floor.

The tall young man withdrew his sword and confronted Revelry Caubeen who kept a levelheaded face of aloofness, his cane was in one hand, and he looked over Camellia to check that she was unhurt. Mr. Caubeen began to tsk and walked around the group containing the young woman.

"Now, now Anthon, shouldn't we be in the Outlands? Wouldn't want word to reach the Queen that you have escaped, now would you? Escaped, and tormenting a lady of respectability, no less, who must be going." Revelry twirled his cane; his manner was nonchalant.

The man in black, presumably named Anthon, paled in fury, turning around to face Camellia. He looked her over smiling and swiveling back around to face Revelry, "I think that this is none of your business, apprentice."

"Ah, see Anthon there is the trouble: you think too much. But, you did not properly think this out. You see the young lady here is late for a meeting with her Majesty; now, since she is late, the Queen has sent out guards to search for her. Luckily for you, I beat the guards in finding her and now instead of facing down ten guards you only have to deal with me." The apprentice directed a hand to himself.

Anthon stood there for a moment, his henchmen looked around for the ten guards quickly.

After what appeared to be a moment of consideration, the man in black gloved his sword once more and with a small bow and calculated smile, he spoke again; "Another time then, shall we?"

Turning back to Camellia he bowed again, his charm was in full effect as he stalked off, not before throwing a contemptuous smile at Mr. Caubeen, his two lackeys bumbling off after him.

Camellia watched the three leave, her heart had stopped pumping vigorously, and she removed herself from the ground; dusting off the dirt that sullied her gown. She did not turn back to Revelry but instead looked down in embarrassment at the predicament she had led herself into. Those men had been prepared to kidnap her if the hat maker's apprentice had not shown up.

As Camellia turned back around to express her thanks, instead of the calm man who had scared away her captors, she was instantly greeted by an irate and chastising Revelry.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing by going towards the Outlands? Running amuck all o'er Underland, walking out on the Queen, no less, just because somebody didn't like the truth. By Jove I got here in time; would've been kidnapped and taken to the Red Queen. My Lord, Cam, think before you bloody well do something."

Camellia stood there, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink with humiliation. All the gratitude that she had for him was tossed aside, and soon her temper rose up and caused her to shout back at him.

"Nobody told you to come and get me! All I am trying to do is go home and leave this world altogether. I didn't know that I was going to walk into the middle of something and get myself into trouble. So don't you dare yell at me for something I had no control over, you great big half-wit!"

Instead of laughing at her anger, like Camellia expected him to, Revelry responded; yelling just as loudly she did, a bit of an Irish accent in his voice,

"What was I supposed to do. Damn cat comes and appears, says 'you're leaving but goin' the wrong direction! Silly chavy, can't do anything proper, can yeah?' Come on we are going back to the castle and you are going to listen to what you are told to do."

Mr. Caubeen pointed his cane back to the forest; his look was stern and exasperated. The boy, who was no more than twenty-two, was acting like a hen-pecked old man.

Camellia was the one who began to laugh in disbelief. If Revelry thought she was going anywhere with him, then he had another thing coming.

"I won't be going back to the castle, especially not with some beast-headed young man like you. Now if you will excuse me, I must be getting back to my world."

She bowed a fake bow, and turned to leave.

Unexpectedly, she was grabbed and hoisted over the shoulder of one Mr. Caubeen; her screams and oaths were loud and very much unexpected from such a tiny thing. Finally, Mr. Caubeen began to laugh; his demeanor of stern anger faded.

Camellia hit at his back, only to be jostled by the man.

"Now, now Cam. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."


End file.
